Broken
by grey-eyed-blonde
Summary: Edward and Bella come to hate each other. When a twist of fate results in them having to live together, will they be able to suck it up and make amends? Or will it push them both to their limits? AH/AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**BPOV**

"Come on Bella, come on.... you can do it... you can do it... Just five more k to go," I muttered under my breath, mentally kicking myself in the head for signing up for this damned thing in the first place. I took in the beautiful scenery of the park, trying to distract myself from the last five kilometres I was pushing myself to finish for my daily run. Training for the marathon was no easy feat, but at least it was something to take my mind off of Jake. When I came up with the clever idea of running the Boston Marathon, it never once occurred to me that I might actually have to put some preparation and dedication into it. I was hoping for a temporary fix to get him out of my mind and perhaps a couple drunk nights of one night stands in between to get over the painful four and half year relationship that I was just dumped out of... literally.

Jake and I had been childhood friends in our small town of Forks, and then proceeded to attend the same college, UMASS Boston – me as an art history and English lit major, while he studied Kinesiology. We started dating in our second year of college after a drunken night of hot sex at my roommate Alice's twentieth birthday bash, which by the way, was the birthday party of the century.

No, really... Jay Z doesn't just attend _anyone's_ birthday.

Anyway, what started as an awesome relationship with the person I knew and loved most in the world (or at least, I _thought_ I knew and loved most) ended in him allowing his immature and horny ways to get the better of him by sleeping with his sports psychology TA. So in sum, losing my best friend and my boyfriend simultaneously was pretty well... priceless.

So, here I am, running a marathon to get my mind of my ex-jock of a boyfriend. He was the bastard who got me into running in the first place, to "relieve some stress and tighten up those thighs." I was already uncoordinated enough; it took enough effort for me to walk straight, let alone run along our running path together every morning.

I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to run this damn thing in an attempt to win over his latest fling. I always felt Jake was a little bit too immature for me, but I never let that get in the way. As a best friend, I couldn't have asked for anyone better. He was with me through every little high school heartbreak (ahem, Mike Newton), my mothers' untimely death due to breast cancer, and every little scrape and hiccup along the way. He was like a brother to me, which sounds kind of twisted since we dated, but you know what I mean. Aside from the physical parts of our relationship, emotionally he was like a brother.

Every little thought I had of him brought back a million memories and resulted in me going off on a huge mental tangent. I usually ended up (at about my 20K mark) having a hysterical crying fit in the middle of my running path and then resulted in calling Rose to come pick me up, which is why I had to get my shit together so I could make the 25 kilometres I was scheduled to run this week or I'd never make it to the 42 kilometre mark on time. Did I mention I still have to qualify for the damn thing?

I need to quit.

My body was telling me I had to suck it up and make it through these next five kilometres, but my mind was pleading for us to go back to bed and hide under the covers for eternity.

_Not today, Bella. Not today," _my body shouted._ "You're a goddamn fighter. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."_

And with that mental pep-talk, I blasted Kanye West's "Stronger" through my little pink iPod, took a deep breath from the core of my gut, and prepared to dominate this motherfucking running path.

--

After my steamy shower I popped two Motrin in anticipation of the muscle aches I was bound to wake up with tomorrow morning and ran down to the kitchen table in my little white-with-pink-hearts boxer shorts and white tank top -- my favourite sleeping attire.

"Bella, for Christ's sake!" Alice screeched and I nearly dropped the bowl of cereal in my hands.

"....Yessss?" I asked sheepishly, hoping that she hadn't discovered that I "borrowed" her NARS Orgasm cheek blush the other night and accidentally lost it in Club XS.

"What are you doing in your f'n pyjamas?!" The high pitch of her voice was going to shatter the windows.

"Uhm, well after my twenty-five K run I thought I might go back to bed because it's what, 8am on a Saturday?" I replied, thankful that she hadn't yet discovered the missing blush from her ridiculously extensive (read: ridiculously expensive) collection of Sephora makeup.

"Well HELL-O missy, but did you forget about our super fun day of shopping in the city?" She stood in front of me, tapping her little foot impatiently.

Before I could open my mouth to object, she cut me off.

"Plus... you owe me for losing my NARS, bitch" she teased, knowing that I would most definitely feel guilty about that.

I knew Alice better to think that she would be upset about losing her $40 blush – she didn't exactly have to be frugal with her money. I mean, her father was Chief of Surgery at Boston General Hospital and her mother came from a ridiculous amount of family wealth and inherited Masen Homes and Masen Luxury Real Estate.

However I wouldn't put it past Alice to use the blush as blackmail to get me into a miserable day of blowing money that I didn't have with her.

"Alright, alright," I agreed, and trudged back upstairs to change into some decent clothing. After all, I did need an outfit for tonight's gala.

After taking a quick glance at my wardrobe, I grabbed a pair of jeans off my bedroom floor and a tight white tee and pulled my unruly thick hair into a ponytail then ran downstairs, nearly tripping on the last three steps.

Alice was already waiting in her shiny yellow Porsche, hood down and oversized Chanel sunglasses on. She looked like a movie star, as always. I hopped in, and followed suit with my Ray Ban wayfarers, a gift from Jake for my last birthday. Ugh. Mental images of Jake on my twenty-second birthday flashed through my head, making me nauseous.

Alice must have noticed me wincing because she started up about all the cute guys that would be at her boyfriend Jasper's work fundraiser tonight. Jasper worked as a surgeon under Dr Cullen, Alice's father, and their hospital was constantly the donors and recipients of these charity benefits for some cause or another within the hospital. Most of the funds came from the Cullen's pockets of course, but their wealthy friends and acquaintances were always happy to have another lavish party to attend where they could dress up and throw around their big cheques, demonstrating how wealthy they were, while feeling overly charitable for donating to some illness or cause they were blissfully unaware of.

"Alice, please," I paused, looking out the window for a moment to gather my thoughts. She sensed the pain in my voice and gently put her arm around me, giving me a little hug, while driving well over the speed limit, no less.

"It's okay Bella, honey. I know you're still upset about _him_." She over emphasized the "him," as if she was referring to the antichrist himself.

Ever since Jake broke my heart, she couldn't bring herself to mention his name. She had put a lot of faith in our relationship and was shocked and appalled and literally kicked him in the nuts when he came out about the cheating incidents – and yes, there was more than one. I was stupid enough to let him do it over and over again, and break my heart more than once. And because of that, I was no longer a sucker for love.

We pulled into a parking lot behind the little café where we were meeting Rose before our shopping expedition. Rose owned a trendy Pilates studio downtown, although her main source of income was her modelling. She was this month's _Sports Illustrated_ cover girl, which was something she had been dreaming of (and working out in preparation of) her entire life. She was constantly jetting off to tropical destinations for Victoria's Secret shoots and was featured in several other magazines... often men's magazines, although she never did a tacky shoot. She was very tasteful and would never pose nude, which just about broke every guy's heart in America.

Rose was the classic American beauty. Standing at 5'8" with a gorgeous curvy body and perfectly rounded breasts, long wavy blonde hair, and skin as smooth and clear as porcelain, she was hard to miss. She was well aware of her beauty and perfect body and rocked it every opportunity she got.

"Hey bitches!" she exclaimed as strutted toward us. "I'm getting so psyched about this charity thingy tonight!!"

Alice squealed at the mention of the gala and clapped her hands together. "OK, Rose. Jasper is bringing his sex-on-a-stick friend, James. You can't screw this one up. He might just be the _one_!"

Alice was constantly on the hunt for mine and Rose's eternal soul mates. We had little faith in this, but we played along and appreciated her attempts all the same.

"Fine, whatever," Rose replied, picking at her long acrylic nail "I'm sure he'll be a decent lay. What is he again? Some hockey player?"

"Football, Rose! Focus!" Alice shot back, knowing that it was Rose's dream to hook-up with a football superstar.

"Meh, whatever," Rose shrugged, looking completely indifferently. Rose wasn't in to the whole "commitment" thing, and felt she was too young with too tight a body to worry about finding a guy anyway. She wanted a good fuck and that was it. Much like what I was looking for right now. Nothing serious. No strings.

--

I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when I heard an excited knock at my bedroom door.

Alice, I guessed.

I stormed over to the door, a little irritated by all her enthusiasm. Seriously, sometimes Alice was like a little ball of energy, ready to explode. She needed to take it down a notch, and perhaps some Valium would achieve that goal.

I swung the door open and Alice gave me a critical once over.

"Here," she said, grabbing my eye shadow brush. "I want to do a sultry smoky eye for tonight."

I contemplated arguing since I wasn't up to the whole dressing up thing in the first place, but just sighed and let her take over.

Within five minutes I was looking like a new woman.

I loved how Alice could manipulate a makeup palette to make me look like a supermodel with a shimmery glow and seductress eye in a matter of mere minutes. She had skills that even Rose's professional cosmeticians hadn't perfected after decades in the industry.

I tilted my head to check out the messy ponytail I was rocking and decided to let my hair down loose for the night; perhaps it would lead others to think I was laid back and oh-so-cool.

Rose stumbled into the room, holding her super high Jimmy Choo stilettos in one hand and a cosmopolitan in the other. She was spilling it all over the floor, which was an indication she was already wasted off her ass.

"Ready Chicas?!" She exclaimed, and Alice looked at her disapprovingly. "Oh COMON Alice. Let me at least have a bit of fun tonight, alright!?"

I grabbed the cosmopolitan out of Rose's hand and took a generous sip before handing it back to her.

"Mmmm. Perfect amount of Cointreau. Alright everybody, let's get this party staaaaaaarted!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. **

**BPOV**

Last night at the charity auction I met the cockier-than-thou Edward Cullen, Alice's brother she never actually introduced me to until last night. She often spoke of him and I certainly knew who Edward Cullen was, but I never actually made the connection that the man and the legend were one in the same.

Apparently Rose did though – hell, she went to school with the guy. The extent of my knowledge on Edward Cullen was the _Hello!_ gossip magazines I indulged five dollars on every week. I knew him as a society boy, heartbreaker, and serial monogamist. I also heard of him frequently through my job, under which setting I knew him as a tyrant who didn't give a fuck about the little man and who was constantly trying to shut down our business so he could expand his ridiculous office building at 500 Boylston Street, renamed 'Cullen Towers.' Of course he never made a formal introduction to us and always sent a representative to deal with the dirty work, but alas it worked for him and we were pretty close to being bought out and shut down as a result of the asshole.

I knew him as someone I hoped to never encounter, and when I did I wanted to give him a piece of my mind about what a smug sack of shit I thought he was. Rosalie and he dated before I knew her and he broke her heart, so that was one reason. The other was the fact that he treated women as expendable. The bit about him trying to destroy my career was definitely the cherry on top, but it was hard to hold him fully accountable since he never gave us the time of day to even bother knowing who he was destroying with his bribery laden letters.

Unfortunately our first meeting didn't exactly go as planned, and I ended up stammering when I saw him in person and blushing when he shook my hand. It was utterly pathetic. I was star-struck by the asshole.

Luckily for me he didn't have two thoughts about me and was evidently distracted by the other women at the gala.

I laced up my runners tightly and spun the dial on my iPod to my "running beats" playlist; the music of Paramore prompted today's twenty-five kilometre fuck-my-life-I'm-hungover run.

I was 14 kilometres in and going stronger than ever when I noticed a familiar messy head of hair running ahead of me. He was keeping a good pace and must have been running in front of me for awhile since there was no break in the trail for miles. I couldn't tell who it was though, but it was safe to assume it was someone from one of my yoga classes.

I quickly assessed his jogging gear; a loose grey Under Armour shirt that complimented his runner's physique was paired with basic black shorts. He had a top-of-the-line pair of runners and a professional marathon watch. I recognized the watch since I'd been eying it every day at the Running Room but couldn't overcome the hefty price tag. To my surprise, he was one of the few runners out there that didn't use an iPod, which to me indicated he was a "serious" runner, one who focused on their breathing and pace rather than blasting tunes. That earned a great bit of my respect since it was rare to find someone so dedicated to the sport that they could push their body to its uttermost limits without the distraction of music.

I was paying too much attention to the perfectly sculpted butt in front of me that I forgot to look where I was running – a huge mistake since accidents managed to find me when I didn't pay attention to my footing. So to no surprise at all, I managed to trip on a stick on the path and went flying five feet in front of me onto the hard pavement.

_Goddamnit. _

"OW!" I involuntarily yelped as I landed on my ankle. I hoped the sex-on-a-stick Adonis in front of me didn't notice and kept running blissfully without interruption from the physically challenged marathoner behind him.

I chanced a look at my ankle and it was already bleeding, no less, from the rock I fell on. I applied pressure to my wound by pushing my foot into the pavement but that only hurt more and I winced somewhat dramatically from the extreme pain. To be honest, I was more upset that this clumsy screw-up ruined my stride this morning than the injury itself.

I was in the process of inflicting more pain on ankle when I heard a guy chuckling before me.

_Please don't be a serial killer. _Yah, I was slightly paranoid like that.

"Funny shit, eh?" I replied, looking up and yep, sure enough, it was Adonis.

"The only thing that I find funny is that it looks like you are intentionally trying to destroy your ankle," he replied, bending down closer to me to examine the damage.

I took a moment to carefully assess him in order to place his face with a name as he fidgeted with my ankle. He certainly was easy on the eyes, although he didn't much look like the typical guys who attended my yoga classes. The only hotties that ever sat in on my classes were the ones who had a fantasy about cheating on their wives or girlfriends with their ever-so-flexible yoga instructor. Funny thing is, I got into yoga because I was ever-so-inflexible and was moreso extremely clumsy and broke several bones in my body as a result of this 'disability.' My physician, Dr. Cullen, who was also incidentally Alice's father, suggested I take up yoga to try and improve my balance and centre my focus or some shit. It actually worked somewhat and damnit Dr. Cullen was a genius in my books.

However, today was a perfect example of my lack of Zen-ness.

"Buddy, I hope to God you know what you're doing down there, because I'm in no mood to be having some amateur butcher my ankle," I commented as he was in the process of doing some sort of medical procedure on my ankle involving a wooden stick and a tensor bandage he wore before on his knee.

He chuckled again, this time to himself, as if he was utterly amused by the whole act. I wondered what the fuck this guy found so funny about me being in excruciating pain.

"You must be some sort of sadomasochist or whatever the fuck they call those guys who are into women's pain... you know, inflicting pain on weaker beings by dripping hot wax on their thighs," I bantered on, trying to write-off my nonsense-filled monologue as being lightheaded from the fall. I sounded like an idiot.

"I believe you mean a sadist," he mused. "You're kinky like that eh?" he joked, and stepped back to examine his work. "There. You should be good to walk to the nearest Emerg."

"First of all, _no_, I'm not kinky. Second of all, if I was, I wouldn't be sharing that with you. Thirdly, thanks for the service. I'll have to mention to the mayor that you deserve a gold star for helping the physically handicapped marathon runners of Boston." I propped myself up with my wrists and the attractive stranger tentatively moved toward me and implied, 'may I?' with his body language. I nodded in agreement and he then wrapped his arms around my torso to lift me up. My heart fluttered in reaction to the close contact, and when our hands accidentally brushed I felt a surge of something similar to an electric current run through my body.

I disregarded those inconvenient feelings because I definitely didn't see myself with the likes of _this_ guy -- some gorgeous runner who was so self-assured and seemingly amused by my suffering.

Once I was fully upright, I stepped away from the guy, but failed miserably and nearly fell right back down to the ground before he swept me up in his arms again and gently placed me down on the grass.

"Alright there miss, you better not attempt to walk to the nearest Emerg," he grinned. "I was joking about that by the way, though you seemed pretty persistent on breaking your ankle in four different locations by walking to the hospital with an already broken ankle."

"Fuck! It's not broken, is it?" I groaned and kicked my non-broken ankle against the pavement.

"Easy there tough stuff, that's how you'll go about breaking your other ankle and then you'll be legally handicapped," he said, looking me in the eyes for the first time.

As I took in his appearance, I suddenly felt a knot form in my stomach. Never have I met such an incredibly gorgeous man in my life. He had the most unbelievable piercing topaz eyes, soft, messy bronze hair, a strikingly chiselled jaw, a glint of mischief in his eyes, a cocky grin...

He was Edward fucking Cullen.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I stammered as I awkwardly inched away from him on the palms of my hands. "You're Edward Cullen."

He gave me a puzzled look but then courteously raised his hand out to me. "And you are?"

"I am the girl you met last night and clearly found as unforgettable as I found you," I snapped, blatantly rejecting his hand.

"Apparently not, because you remember my name whereas I have absolutely no recollection of ever meeting you," he countered. Man this guy played harsh.

"I'm your sister's roommate... Bella Swan? We sat at the same table yesterday?" I wasn't in any mood for formalities and just wanted to get the hell away from the manipulative, 'make-your-panties-drop' wrath of Edward Cullen.

"Ha, so you are," he replied dryly. "Once you ditch the evening gown and excessive makeup you actually look somewhat presentable," he pondered out loud.

"Yes, well, thank you for those kind words, but I've actually gotta get running." I glared at him, trying to appear fierce but he just laughed in my face.

"I'd like to see you try to run, Bella. I think your running is what got you face-down on the cement waiting for your knight in shining armour to come to your rescue."

Grrr. This man was absolutely infuriating. "Why don't you make yourself useful and call your sister to come get me. I'm not in the mood to be stuck in the wilderness with the likes of you. You'll probably rape and murder me." I regretted the last words as soon as I said them. That just fuelled his next comment.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. And unlike some people, I don't go running with a bundle of technology at my side," he picked up my now-broken iPod off the ground and examined it. "I like to enjoy nature rather than listen to trashy pick-me-up beats. So no, I don't have the means to call my sister, although believe me, there is nothing I would love more than to pass your inconvenient self her way. However, your ankle is broken and swelling by the minute and you need medical care immediately." His last words were harsh but considerate.

"Well what about that makeshift crutch you have going on there," I pointed to the stick-and-tensor-bandage contraption.

"Bella, that's going to last all of five minutes. I'm an investment banker, not a doctor. That was supposed to be temporary until you called for help but apparently neither of us carry a cell phone and we're pretty far from civilization. I'd say a good five miles."

"Fuck's sake," I emitted without realizing it. He didn't appreciate my outburst and gave me a scornful look.

"Look, I'd gladly walk you to my car and give you a lift to the hospital, but you have to do your part and suck it up and bear with me. I know I'm not much fun and this is evidently the worst-case scenario for you but just try and treat me respectfully and I'll _try_ and do the same to you." Great inspirational pep-talk, Edward Cullen.

"Yah, whatever. Just let's cut the bullshit and get moving already, ok? I want this ankle taken care of stat so I can get healed before the qualifying race in four weeks." The thought of missing out on the Boston Marathon because of a stupid, clumsy mishap made my blood boil.

"I may not be a doctor, but I did obtain an undergraduate degree in medical science and with that limited knowledge I can tell you with confidence that you will not be running the Boston with _that_," he pointed at my ankle.

"Fuck salt!" I exclaimed, tossing my arms up in the air. Now even my 'Yoga for Runners' class would be a total waste.

"Well at least you're original in your swearing, I'll give you that," he decided. He held out his hand for me to take it, but I just looked at it blankly. "Bella, you'd do well to just cooperate. I have to get to work," his fuse was getting shorter with my stubbornness. "I promise, for the love of God, you will never have to see me again after today. Just please..."

Don't count on it, I thought. I had to see him almost every day walking in and out of his office whether I liked it or not.

I took his hand cautiously and almost flinched when we touched but I decided to just suck it up and get on with it. I didn't care much to be dramatic about anything this morning and I was actually getting pretty damn concerned with the state of my ankle. It was now a shade similar to a blueberry and looked like a cankle as it swelled to my calf. _Attractive_, I muttered to myself. I quickly unlaced my shoe and took it off along with my sock.

"I'd offer to carry those for you but I imagine they reek," he wrapped my arm around his shoulder and put his arm around my waist so as to take some weight off my injured ankle.

"You're such a gentleman," I said sarcastically. He had no idea the beef I had on him and I'd make damn sure he didn't. If he knew I was the one occupying the modest building beside his Tajmahal office building he'd for sure knock it down with a crane by tomorrow morning.

"So you're really training for the Boston Marathon?" he asked as he led us along the path that hopefully led to civilization eventually.

"Well I _was_," I didn't imagine how this fall would affect my less than stellar training performance. "Today was actually my best time so far; I was breaking an easy stride. But then this happened and I'd hate to see it destroy my performance."

He nodded in agreement. "I've ran it a few times," he said, genuinely sounding like it was no big deal. "I try to get it in every four years, so that way I give my body time to recuperate before the next marathon. I usually just do it as a challenge to myself and then raise a bit of money for a foundation. I'm big on giving to foster care programs," he explained.

_How about you direct some of that charity work toward saving my sad business next door, _I thought silently.

For the remainder of the walk back to his car we opted on keeping to our own thoughts, because quite frankly I didn't care to hear about what a "good guy" Edward thought he was when I knew he was lying through his teeth. He didn't seem that interested in me either, which worked in both our favours.

When we finally arrived at a small clearing his car was as ostentatious as I expected.

"You might think I'm a son-of-a-bitch for driving a Lamborghini," he began, noticing my raised eyebrow at his ride, "But today this ostentatious car is saving your life." It was like he could read my mind. "Besides, fast cars are a passion of mine. Since I do enough for everyone else I don't feel bad about spending my hard earned cash on myself once in awhile." I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"An ambulance would have worked fine," I replied dryly.

"See, _you_ would think that," he accused. "Someone like you, who probably drives an old beater of sorts, couldn't even be expected to appreciate the 640 horsepower that my Lamborghini Murciélago LP640 Roadster provides, in addition to the 487 torque and 6.5 litre V12 engine. It's truly a car enthusiast's wet dream."

"And I'm sure your fuel consumption is solely contributing to the depletion of our natural resources. What is it, 26 litres per 100 kilometres? And actually, I drive a Prius." Since he was in the habit of making wild accusations I didn't bother feeding his ego by commenting on the specs of his car. "Good for the environment, excellent mileage, so I guess since I'm doing my part in saving humanity and the earth and its resources and all, I can afford to splurge once in awhile," I mimicked his speech of self-gratitude.

"Well somebody's done their research on cars," he commented. "I hope to God they anesthetise you as soon as we arrive so I don't have to put up with anymore of your inane banter."

"You know, this might be very embarrassing to you, but I'm standing right here," I sneered.

He flashed me a smile that under normal circumstances would have made my heart melt, but I was too consumed by the asshole that was Edward Cullen I didn't buy it. "Save it for the nurses."

"Good idea. They're better looking anyway."

Despite being a total douchebag, he was right about one thing; we arrived at the hospital in record time. He called Dr. Cullen en route who was now waiting patiently with a stretcher and four nurses in front of the emerg doors. Dear Lord.

"Seriously? Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

Edward just laughed out loud and stalked off into the hospital likely to the nurse's station where he would pick up some young, easily impressed whore.

Luckily I didn't have time to focus on Dickward's thoughts because I was soon being overwhelmed and humiliated by nurses strapping me to a stretcher and dragging me up to a hospital room. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore all the chaos around me.

In no time I was alone in a private room with Dr. Cullen, who greeted me happily and worked away silently on the damages.

Several minutes later, Edward walked in with a young, drop-dead gorgeous, well-endowed woman who was smiling widely. Her silky platinum blonde hair cascaded in waves down her shoulders, drawing all attention to the haphazardly buttoned green scrubs she wore.

"You found yourself the nurse you were looking for?" I asked, right in front of Dr. Cullen who was seemingly oblivious to his son's womanizing ways and blatant disrespect for the fairer sex.

"Actually, Lauren Mallory here is a resident working under Dr. Cullen. Isn't that right, Dr. Mallory?" I was seriously shocked at the prospect of that bimbo being a doctor, but nonetheless what did I know.

"She's broken her wrist and suffered some minor head trauma," Dr. Cullen knit his brows as he examined my chart, ignoring the antics of Edward and I. Edward peered over to the chart and raised his eyebrows, likely a reaction to the length of my chart. He smoothly wrapped his arm around the bimbo's tiny waist, who was now sneering at me for some reason.

"Isabella is a frequent flyer here," Dr. Cullen joked, then continued on with his diagnosis.

"Bella," I corrected.

"Isabella, you'll be free to go provided someone is available to pick you up, as soon as I fill out these prescriptions for you" Dr. Cullen began. "You've broken your right wrist, twisted your ankle, and you have a lot of bruising and a minor head trauma but nothing that T3's can't take care of," he smiled warmly at me and patted my leg gently. I winced with every diagnosis, not out of pain but rather out of humiliation of being such a klutz.

"I thought it was just my ankle. How did all this other crap get broken in the process? Was it Edward's idea of a crutch that had something to do with it?" I was hoping I could leave him accountable for some of these injuries so at least he'd feel bad, or if that was impossible, I hoped to humiliate him in front of Doctor Slut.

"No, no, Isabella. Edward's splint only helped you. You might have been stranded out there for days had you not encountered him," Dr. Cullen replied somewhat defensively. "Now you just worry about taking it easy from now on, Isabella," he warned.

"Bella. And I'm fine, Dr Cullen," I replied quickly, kicking my legs over the side of the bed, "I'm absolutely fine."

"Now Bella," he handed me the prescription form, "I won't expect to see you at any more charity galas for awhile."

"No, I suspect you won't." _Hopefully_, I wanted to add. I was sick of Alice dragging me to those damn things.

"I'll drive her home Carlisle," Edward offered as Dr. Cullen put the finishing touches on my ankle cast.

"Please don't," I objected. But before I was able to sneak away from them both, Dr. Cullen informed me that I wasn't able to leave on my own and Edward was my only way out.

Fuck my life.

For the entirety of the drive home Edward drawled on about how I was making him late for work, and how I shouldn't be running in the first place, and how I should take his father's advice on getting a physiotherapist, and how he wasn't going to use that path anymore to avoid bumping into physically disabled (and it was implied mentally as well) marathon runners. He then proceeded to discuss his latest conquest, Doctor Slut, whom he affectionately referred to as Doctor Sweet Cheeks.

As soon as I got home, Alice was running around catering to me left and right, bringing me soup, cups of tea, more blankets, painkillers – hell, she even cancelled her entire day's worth of house showings just to take special care of me. Every so often she'd call Carlisle and give him an update on my condition, making sure she was doing everything she could.

As kind as it was, I personally felt she was overdoing the whole thing. I mean, it was only a couple of scrapes, right?

"Bella? I have one showing I absolutely can't get out of, despite trying all morning" Alice called from the kitchen and I heard clinking glasses and wondered what on earth she was concocting in there.

"Yah, of course," I replied, thankful I'd be left alone for a bit to gather my thoughts; "Just do what you have to do."

Alice worked quite diligently for her family company, Masen Luxury Real Estate as a real estate agent, which was a perfect job for her. She was already overly excited about everything, so why not transfer that excitement into a job where you can convince people that they are looking at "Absolutely the most perfect house that you will ever find!"

The other branch of the company, Masen Homes, specialized in restoring old estates and mansions and putting them back on the market. Esme had inherited the company from her parents and managed the company until just recently, when she passed along the reigns and hired a new CEO. Now she focused on the charity and PR, which worked perfectly with her upbeat and pleasant nature.

So today Alice decided on filling me in on her mystery brother, of whom I wished she would have mentioned before so I could solicit her help in getting him off my company's case.

"He didn't want the family business," Alice informed me, taking a seat at the end of my bed. "You know, he wanted to do his own thing, make it big for himself, so he started his own investment firm of Cullen & Co. He built the company from the bottom up and managed to turn it into one of the most successful mergers and acquisitions firms on Wall Street," she paused, "and the world." Her eyes widened with excitement.

"Yah, well you should be proud of him for that," I replied, implying that there's little else to be proud of. She didn't seem to pick up on that detail.

"For a twenty-six year old, my big brother's not doing so bad, is he?" she said, shrugging off the fact that her father was one of the most successful and skilled doctors in the country, her mother was an heiress of a huge real estate empire, and her brother owned the single largest investment bank on the Western hemisphere.

And the bastard was out to destroy my life so he could build a bigger boardroom for his office.

--


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Grey-Eyed-Blonde here!! This is my own little side story I've been working on in addition to FA, so I'd love it if all my loyal readers would read and review this story too! And I know you're probably thinking, oh god, how many stories with cocky wealthy Edward have we seen... but I swear mine is different! It'll have lots of good plot twists, lots of fun stuff, witty dialogue and what not... I really, really hope you enjoy it. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer. I don't really wish I was either. All things Twilight belong to her. **

**BPOV**

_Two weeks later. _

I struggled to get into the front door of my office as I juggled my piping hot coffee in one hand, stack of paperwork in another, and a pile full of mail balanced haphazardly on top of said hot coffee.

"Fuckity fuck fuck!" I cursed loudly until I finally managed to insert the key in the hole and then kicked the door open with my shoe. As a gust of wind blew up behind me, the mail went flying and my paperwork fluttered slowly to the ground. At least the coffee remained where it was supposed to.

"Good morning Bella!" my cheery administrative assistant beamed at me. I shot her an annoyed yet pleading look, and in a split second she was by my side organizing the chaotic mess around me and removing my coat.

"Thanks Angela." I took a deep sigh and then gave her the best smile I could fathom, which probably came across as more of a wince than a friendly gesture. She was a wonderful assistant but today wasn't the day for small talk.

"Not a problem. Jeez Bella, I'm always trying to get you to use a proper briefcase instead of carry everything around in your hands," she sat back down at her desk and the phone started ringing off the hook.

"I see we're very busy today Angela, I'm going to get started on the latest case files." I quickly excused myself from our sad looking lobby and slipped into my equally pitiful office.

Before I could even take a seat at my involuntarily vintage office chair, my personal line began ringing. The sharp, discordant ringing of my rotary dial phone stung my ears, sending an instant migraine to my still half-asleep brain.

I glanced at the clock; it wasn't even nine a.m. yet.

"Bella Swan, how can I help you?" I answered groggily into the receiver.

The line went dead before I could inquire as to who was calling. I could already tell this was going to be a long and troublesome day.

I glanced at the nearly sky-high pile of paperwork on my desk and decided to chip away at this burgeoning task. I strategically pulled the first envelope off the top of the pile so as to not disrupt the rest of the pile which would send it flying through the office.

The envelope wasn't sealed or stamped, and it was addressed to "499 Boylston Street," the formal address of the building our humble office occupied. The office was two storeys, with the entire upstairs hosting years of files and documents that had been improperly (and illegally) stored in cardboard boxes. Last years' funding didn't cover a proper filing cabinet and our previous one had been the target of arson.

Since we mainly dealt with social justice cases, our office was constantly the target of robberies and fires by angry abusive husbands who wanted to regain custody of their children after years of abusing them, or similar such cases. I was actually afraid that another fire to our building would be the death of it, since last time our funding and insurance barely covered the costs to repair the building. Even so we had to do it on an extremely tight budget; hence the burnt walls. The stains from the fire rescue's water hose managed to turn our already faded grey walls into a lovely patchy brown pattern.

"_To the occupants of 499 Boylston Street," _the letter began. I wondered who the hell composed a letter to us without even bothering to look up the name of said "occupants" since it stated right on the front of our building: Social Justice Initiatives LLP.

The stationary used was of a high quality and I knew right then and there I didn't want any of their business. Nonetheless I had a legal obligation to read all mail addressed to the firm, and although the thought of lighting the letter ablaze and blaming it on arson was very appealing, I proceeded to read it.

"_I have, on several attempts, requested your cooperation in settling a deal on the sale of your building," _it stated.

_Ha! I wasn't aware our building was for sale._ I scooted over to my retro computer that prevailed in the dinosaur era and typed out a letter of my own.

"_Dear Fellow Occupant,"_ I addressed it, since the identity of this comedian hadn't yet been revealed. _"I was not aware of the real estate listing of the building 499 Boylston Street."_ This was going to be fun.

I turned back to the letter on my desk and continued on, rubbing my hands together in anticipation of the witty rhetoric I could respond with. I hadn't had this much fun composing a legal letter since my creative writing class on legal rhetoric during college.

"_It was my initial intent to come to an agreement on the price of said building, as I have on numerous occasions offered you the following figures: $500,000; $750,000; $1,000,000; $1,500,000."_ I paused. I didn't need to think twice about who composed this ludicrous letter. I scanned my eyes to the bottom of the page where the typeface had ended and it was replaced with elegant handwriting: _"Regretfully yours, Edward Cullen."_

_Regretfully yours?_

I quickly brought my eyes back up to the beginning of the letter and quickly scanned over the part I had already read, bringing myself to the next paragraph.

"_After having my realtor appraise the building, the suggested retail value was set at $100,000. Since you have previously ignored my very generous offers, implying failure to comply, I have taken the liberty of informing the state of Massachusetts of the fire hazard your building poses to my office. Therefore I regret to inform you that you will be evicted in thirty days without compensation. Regretfully yours, Edward Cullen." _

_Regretfully yours _my ass_. _

"Ange," I spoke into the intercom, "Set up a lunch date with Edward Cullen."

"Right away Bella," she replied dutifully. Angela was an incredibly intelligent girl who currently attended Harvard Law and was working in my office as part of her pro-bono commitment to society, in part for her law school requirements but primarily out of the good of her heart. She was only required to complete fifty hours but had been here for the past two years in the hopes of landing a position once she graduated from her program this year. We, of course, would hire her without even looking at a resume, because first off, we had more work than we could ever handle, but more importantly because she was a wonderful person who would bring a lot to the firm. Although I wouldn't exactly say our small office constituted a 'firm' -- it was more like a shared space between two non-profit lawyers.

I attended Harvard for my first year of law but quickly transferred to Boston College Law in hopes of avoiding the likes of the pretentious pricks that were in my 1L classes. It was in attending Harvard Law that I learned to hate people like Edward Cullen -- people who were instantly promoted to the higher echelons of their respective careers solely because of their parents' position in society.

I managed to excel in my law school, graduating top of the class and quickly found a position working under J. Jenks, the previous head of our firm who was now unfortunately in prison because of some illegal dealings. Ben Cheney and I managed to uphold the non-profit business, and with years of hard work we eventually earned a reputation for having the highest quality pro-bono legal services in the state. Ben specialized in services for those from lower socio-economic groups whereas I focused on women's and children's rights, who were also incidentally from lower socio-economic groups.

On my spare time I taught two yoga classes a week on 'Yoga for Runners' -- something I did at Rosalie's Pilates centre which she was less than apt at because of her hardcore, ball-busting approach to teaching. Somehow I don't think statements such as "you don't become a GQ cover girl by doing sorry ass sun salutations like that!" would fly too well amongst yogis. I was a little more serene in my method so I managed to build up a large enough client base that Rose added on a separate little 'Zen Room' for my own yoga teachings and meditation classes. Sadly I earned more at my part-time yoga teaching job than my full-time career, but that didn't really matter since money wasn't important to me.

Alice gave me a great deal on rent because my sad excuse for a salary would barely cover the hydro bills. In exchange for her generosity, all I was expected to do was join her on all of her shopping excursions and endure makeovers whenever she decided I was in need of a "new look." I was like her life-size Barbie doll, but less pretty. Or, as Alice deemed, "less cooperative."

I was already getting nervous for my upcoming lunch with Edward Cullen, and I wondered what the best way to attack the situation would be. To bombard him with legal terms he was unaware of would perhaps slightly dissuade him, such as if I made it seem like he was in the wrong and really crossing the line in trying to cross us. Although that plan was quickly crushed when I realized he probably had a whole slew of top-notch lawyers working for him in his office, who would only be so willing to rebut with harsh letters and employ even greater intimidation tactics.

I considered consulting Ben on the matter, but he already made it clear that he was more than willing to relocate if need be because he was sick of his leaky ceiling and constant draft caused by the poorly insulated walls. With the amount that Cullen was offering, we could afford to rent prime office space and perhaps even expand our clientele by getting a couple more lawyers on our team.

I thought that with Edward Cullen the best tactic might be to target his weakness, which was, unfortunately, beautiful women. If I spiffed up my appearance a bit he might feel a little remorse for the poor but somewhat cute lawyer next door and drop the whole eviction business.

I trudged over to the bathroom mirror and examined my appearance. I wasn't entirely unfortunate looking today; all I needed was some more mascara, perhaps a nicer shirt, maybe a pair of heels...

I grabbed my cell phone off my desk and quickly dialled Alice's number. On the second ring she picked up.

"Bella! What's up? How are you feeling? How's your ankle??" Fuck. I was so distracted by all the work I needed catching up on I'd forgotten about that ugly-as-sin tensor bandage Dr. Cullen replaced my splint with the other day.

"I'm fine, don't worry about that, there's more pressing issues at hand," I said, perhaps too abruptly. "I need you here in ten minutes, bring props, think sexy business casual," I explained. She'd know exactly what to do with that.

Right on time, Alice waltzed into my office, carrying with her a variety of outfits. I told her I had a hot lunch date because had she known I was meeting her brother to try and manipulate him out of the asshole eviction he arranged, she'd become too focused on the minor details and feel pressure to pick sides. She didn't need to be too in the know with this matter.

We settled on a knee-length black pencil skirt with bare legs and we ditched the tensor bandage. To elongate my legs she brought a painful looking pair of four-inch Christian Louboutin heels, but I wasn't about to complain because I was desperate at this point. I was even willing to do fishnets but we decided it wasn't in good taste to wear those in the middle of the day, nor were they 'business casual' unless your business happened to be prostitution. We paired the skirt with a tight fitting black jacket, leaving the perfect amount of buttons undone to reveal a bit of skin, but conservative enough to allow room for the imagination to run wild. She did her wonders with my makeup so that I was perfectly polished and chic, then she straightened my hair and ran a shine serum though it to finish off the look.

"Are you sure I shouldn't tie my hair back?" I pondered, wondering if I was looking a little too intentionally sexy.

"Absolutely not," Alice decided. "Men love it when women wear their hair down, and besides, the rest of your look is so polished we needed to add a bit of seduction to finish him off."

_Finish him off_ was right. Hopefully I'd be able to achieve the desired results without incident caused by my still impaired ankle. Visions of me tripping over my own heels and flying into the waiter causing him to drop a Caesar salad on my head flooded my mind, but I quickly shook those negative images out of my head. I needed to think positive.

I graciously thanked Alice for her assistance but knew she was only too willing to do it for me every day if needed. Since her house showings were at random intervals throughout the day, she had a lot of free time, and therefore a lot of pent-up energy waiting to be dispelled. She was always trying to get me to skip work, but I decided this was perhaps the next best thing for her.

At twelve o'clock sharp I headed over to Edward Cullen's colossally showy office, holding my head up high and keeping my focus on my footsteps so I didn't trip and land on my face. Apparently Angela was only able to get through to his secretary's secretary so the details of our lunch were of limited knowledge to him, as in, he could have been meeting with the Prime Minister of Hong Kong for all he knew. This luckily worked in my favour because I would catch him off guard, which hopefully meant he wouldn't be up to par on the status of the eviction and I could accuse him of a slip-up of sorts.

I took the elevator up to the top floor of the building and stepped out into the most expensive looking office I'd ever seen. I cautiously walked forward to the large front desk where an attractive secretary did a quick once-over of me and raised her eyebrow rudely.

"And you are?"

"I'm Mr. Cullen's twelve o'clock," I replied firmly, trying not to get nervous from the stunning strawberry blonde's intimidating sneer.

"You're late," she snapped.

I peered at the large gold plated clock on the wall behind her; it was 12:05.

"You were fortunate enough to get a meeting with Mr. Cullen today at all, and when someone books an appointment with him he expects that they arrive fifteen minutes early. So I don't care what the clock behind my head reads – you're twenty minutes late. And you're wasting his time," she picked up the telephone receiver and then glared at me. "Have a seat."

Before I could even sit down in one of the sleek leather chairs, the bitchy blonde piped up again. "Mr. Cullen will see you now." She didn't even bother looking up from her computer this time.

I walked in through the heavy wooden doors to see the largest office I'd ever stepped in, with a magnificent view of the harbour. Edward was in the middle of a heated phone call on his Bluetooth headset and had his hands firmly pressed against the window. The clicking of my heels as I entered the room was loud enough that he'd have easily heard me but he didn't even bother to acknowledge my presence.

"I don't care what you've got to say, it's all irrelevant. You're throwing wild accusations at me and I won't have any of it!" he shouted into his headset. "Goddamnit, this is exactly why I don't get into personal relationships with my employees, because you all think you're fucking special. No, I have to go. I have an appointment. Don't call me again until you've got something worth my time." He turned around, still without taking notice of me, and threw the headset on his desk. He loosened his tie aggressively.

"Sorry about that," he shuffled some papers around on his desk then took a seat. "Now, how can I help you?"

His eyes finally met mine, but he showed no sign recognition. He ran his fingers through his dishevelled mop of hair and clapped his hands together. "You're wasting my time here, miss. I have very important clients to speak to," he said impatiently.

Right. Sexy, confident, intelligent. _Coherent_.

"Edward Cullen, I'm Bella Swan..." I began, hoping he'd recognize me and be a little friendlier.

"Stating your reason for scheduling an appointment with me would probably be more relevant than introducing yourself. My secretary Tanya takes care of all those formalities."

Did he seriously not remember who I was?

"You saved my life the other day..." I prompted, hoping he'd suddenly feel silly for not being friendlier to me.

"Miss Swan, I'm not an idiot. I recall meeting you. What I don't recall, however, is inviting you over to my office to exchange pleasantries."

Wow. What a dick.

I held up his snarky letter and passed it to him. "I believe you wrote this?"

He quickly scanned it over and shook his head in disbelief. "Yep, it says so right there," he pointed to the paper, "signed, Edward Cullen." He was being utterly sarcastic and rude. I couldn't believe someone managed to get so far in life by having such an unsavoury character. He slapped the paper down on his desk and folded his hands in front of him.

"Well? What is the meaning of this? I'm trying to operate a business next door and I receive threatening letters from you telling me you've managed to evict me. On what grounds?!" I was becoming increasingly heated by the moment. "You don't even own the building!"

"Ah, believe it or not, it states that in the letter," he replied dryly. He began searching for something on his computer, making it very clear that his end of the meeting was coming to a close. "That shack you call an office building keeps bursting into flames and is wearing the side of my building. Plus, it's an eyesore. I wouldn't be surprised if it's deterring potential customers of mine. Besides, your tenant, Mr. Jenks, is incarcerated, thus making it property of the state of Massachusetts." He didn't even bother to look at me. Instead he focused so intently on his computer screen you'd have thought he was reading his own will and testament.

"Yes, well, since you're not even giving me the time of day..." I began, preparing a huge elaborate speech on common courtesy.

"Oh? The time of day?" he looked me straight in the eye as he revelled in the challenge. I noticed his topaz eyes suddenly spark with anticipation. "I'll certainly give you the time of day Miss Swan, but it just so happens that you've paraded in here deciding to rehearse the contents of a letter that I incidentally wrote. Now I'm nearly certain you can read, though I'm having my reservations about that assumption, so aside from that, would could possibly be the purpose of this exercise?"

"The purpose, Mr. Cullen," I stood up out of the chair and pointed my finger firmly on his desk; "Is to warn you that you will _not_ win. We will definitely not settle, and we're taking this to court."

He furrowed his brow as he read something on his laptop screen and then looked back at me. "Well I hope you have a good lawyer, although that might be hard in this town seeing as all the good lawyers work for me..." he trailed off, not really caring about our discussion at all.

"Actually as a matter of fact, I am a lawyer," I replied harshly.

He now looked at me in complete disbelief. He was intentionally exaggerating his reaction, which really pissed me off. "Imagine that! I didn't realize they allowed physically and unmistakably mentally incapacitated individuals to pass the bar," he now grinned cockily at me and out of pure frustration I let out a loud _gah!_

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," he stood out of his chair and swiftly began walking, adjusting his tie as he made long strides for the door. Before he could pass by me however, I stood in front of him with my hands on my waist. He raised his eyebrow at me as if to challenge me, and easily deked to the other side of me. I had to think quickly, so I placed my hands on his chest, his pecs now tightening instinctively. If he wasn't such a dickhead I'd have found that pretty damn sexy.

I was now so close to him I could feel his warm breath on my face, even though I was almost a foot shorter than him. I was instantly grateful of my four-inch Louboutins. "Edward Cullen, you will not humiliate me by knocking down my building! I've worked hard on making my business, and I'll be damned if some cocky asshole like you will take it from me!!"

He took a large step away from me and began messaging someone on his BlackBerry. "Miss Swan, if you are so adamant on fighting for this useless cause, I recommend you Google 'professional misconduct,' since it appears your legal skills are less than adequate. I'm charging you with professional misconduct, as a neighbouring professional, on the basis of clause C; that being failure to act to correct, or report, a situation that the neighbouring practitioner believes may endanger the safety or the welfare of the public."

I casually moved closer to him and peered over his BlackBerry to see if he was reading something his lawyer sent him, but he was making lunch reservations at Chez Louis.

_Well, Edward Cullen, if you want to throw all these fancy legal terms my way, prepare to meet your match. _

"Then you, Mr. Cullen, should probably familiarize yourself with the legal term 'harassment;' the act of engaging in a course of vexatious comments or conduct that is known or ought reasonably to be known as unwelcome and that might reasonably be regarded as interfering in a professional relationship."

Professional relationship my ass.

He began chuckling to himself, clearly more than amused with my sudden spark of fire, which gave me hope he'd changed his mind. "Have a nice day Miss Swan. I'd suggest getting your stuff out in thirty days or all your little case files will be destroyed as well as your building."

"Oh but I'm not done Mr. Cullen. I wanted to also refresh your memory -- since you seem more than familiar with legal discourse -- on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 17, Subsection 2; no one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his or her property."

_In. Your. Face._

"Miss Swan, your pathetic defences are so terribly flawed I don't even consider you a worthy adversary, but seeing as I still have five minutes until I have to meet Dr. Sweet Cheeks for lunch, I might as well go along with your futile attempts at playing lawyer. You say no one shall be _arbitrarily_ deprived of his or her property – the keyword being _arbitrarily_." I took a deep breath and prepared myself for rebuttal. "So in order to avoid violating the sixth amendment of the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights," he continued, "I will send notice of your accusations well in advance so you have time to consider your next course of action. My attorney, Mr. McCarty, as in Harvard Law graduate and Senator McCarty's son, is working on a list of building code violations he will be faxing you tomorrow morning. Until then," he nodded curtly and made his way out the door, letting it slam in my face.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey all! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review... it'll make me write faster! **

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn! Lucky bitch! **

**BPOV **

"Sweetie, that's just how Edward is. I don't know why," Alice tried to comfort me with a cup of tea as I lay snuggled up in my bed, wrapped in my warm comforter. I was miserable and even skipped running this morning for the sake of sleeping in, but I couldn't even sleep in and ended up lying in bed wallowing and feeling more miserable.

"I just don't get why someone would be so mean to someone they barely knew! I mean he practically ignored me at the ball, was completely rude to me during our surprise encounter on the running path, and then at our 'lunch' the other day he came across as quite possible the biggest asshole I've ever met!" I made sure to emphasize air quotes for the lunch bit, seeing as that pithy meeting barely constituted a lunch _or_ meeting.

"Bella, it's just how he is," Alice repeated gently. She was walking a fine line defending the asshole that was Edward Cullen, even if he was her only brother. "It comes from years of bottling everything up. He's definitely not one to be upfront about his emotions or any of that. I think it's actually a bit of a personality disorder. Maybe in the process of rejecting those emotions he also forgot about the good ones. He's super sweet when you get on his good side," she said, as if that were any consolation.

"Oh, right. I guess I must have confused his bag of issues as a blatant disregard for common courtesy," I replied dryly.

Alice gave me a hurt look but after being treated so terribly by her own family I hardly felt bad.

I turned over and punched my pillow a bit to soften it and then lay back down with an exaggerated _humph_! I mean I suppose it was her role to be fair and play devil's advocate, but she had been my roommate and my best friend for years. Disregarding my feelings for her dickwad older brother's was so unjustified.

Alice was busily texting away on her iPhone, some ridiculous piece of technology I preferred to blissfully ignore. I had my good ole cell phone because I didn't have the patience for such finicky contraptions as iPhones. Plus, it seemed to consume most of her communication, which, in my opinion, was really bad for when actual face-to-face communication was necessary. Such was clearly the case with Edward, but not Alice. She was able to come off sounding chipper as ever whether it be via verbal communication, an email, or a brief text message. Edward on the other hand, was consistently a dick via all of the aforementioned communications.

"Who the heck are you texting at eight o'clock in the frickin morning?" I grunted, chiefly angry because I missed my morning java, but also because I had an uneasy feeling that she might be messaging her phantom brother I hadn't heard about until a few weeks ago, when he came into my life with a vengeance.

Her devious grin told me all I needed to know.

"You better not be texting Edward!! _ARGH!_ Alice!" I pleaded, in a higher pitched voice than normal. "He doesn't need to know that I'm talking about him first thing in the morning! Our conversations are confidential, remember? Don't make me tell Jasper about some of the conversations we have been having regarding some very personal topics..."

"You wouldn't!" she cut in.

"You know I would," I said, more confident in myself than I should have been. I paused for a minute, thinking whether it was moral to blackmail my best friend under a circumstance such as this. "Alright, alright, perhaps I wouldn't, but you know Rose would," I admitted.

"All I said was Bella thinks you're a lousy prick who deserves to have his building burned to the ground. And also that you will kick his ass in court because you're amazing." She looked quite pleased with herself.

"Alice! You know I suck in court!"

I was possibly the worst attorney when it came to the dreaded courtroom. I always got clumsy and tripped on my own feet, or blew my closing statement, or somehow managed to make a point in the defence's interest instead of my clients'. I was truly dreadful. I was an embarrassment to all lawyers. In fact, I hated the word "lawyer." I would rather be called a social worker, because in a sense, that's what I was. I simply provided a service, at no cost, for those who needed someone with knowledge of the law, to inform them of their options. I avoided all types of conventional law, including, but not limited to, corporate, civil, family law, intellectual property, criminal, litigation...

"Well I'll hire Emmett McCarty to represent you. Edward's roommate," Alice suggested. How benevolent of her.

"Yah he dropped his name in our 'meeting,'" I was sure to reinforce the air quotes again. "So I don't think he'll be representing me over Edward."

Alice's phone beeped persistently, indicating a new message. I hoped to God it wasn't from dickward.

"Ooh it's on!!" she squealed as she impatiently texted a message back.

"Please! Stop screwing with my fate!" I grabbed the phone from her, nearly sending it flying off the bed. Rosalie managed to catch it mid-flight, and peered at the message on the tiny screen.

"Hi Rose, I didn't even hear you come in," I said. She was dressed head-to-toe in her workout gear, ready for a days' work at her Pilates centre.

She nodded at me and then cleared her throat. "Alice. Good to hear from you. However, the circumstances under which you are contacting me are none of your concern. Call Tanya to arrange a lunch and we'll chat about more important things. It would be wise to stay out of this – it's strictly a matter of business."

"Oh, Edward is always trying to keep me from interfering in business. He said it's not ladylike to have to crunch numbers for a living," Alice sighed and took her phone back from Rosalie.

"What a douche," Rosalie shook her head in disgust. "Alice, why can't you just tell him to knock out the other side of the building? You know, the one that Bella's office _doesn't_ occupy."

"And you think he'd listen? Rose, that would only make him try harder. Once Edward is set on something, he will do anything to get it. You remember how he is," she said knowingly. I didn't know if that was an innuendo of sorts or something else, but I had a feeling Rosalie knew Edward better than she initially led on.

"Anyway ladies, I have a class to teach. Bella, are you good for yoga tonight?"

I was pretty tempted to bail on my Yoga for Runners class, but ever since I had such a cult following for my Wednesday evening class, I knew I couldn't let Rosalie down. If she sensed how upset I was she would beg me to skip it though, but that would only mean I'd be giving in to Edward's demonizing ways. He wasn't going to ruin my life that easily.

"Yeah, I'll be there." I instantly regretted committing to it because that would mean I'd have to get my lazy ass out of bed at some point. "Do me a favour and jack the temperature up to about one-oh-five degrees about an hour before my class. It'll be good for my group to get their sweat on, and it'll certainly help me clear my mind."

"An impromptu Bikram class?" Rose contemplated. "I like your style. I'll stock up the room with my new Sigg water bottles to promote sales, too. They either buy the water, or pass out from dehydration on you," she joked.

Only Rosalie was able to fuse yoga and consumerism so seamlessly. Apparently her father was some mega-rich stockbroker or something, so she must have learned her business-minded ways from him. I actually really respected her entrepreneurial sense, and wished I had some of it to fight off Edward Cullen.

--

At a quarter to eight I rolled out my yoga mat and took a seat to practice some deep breathing before my class piled in. The room was, as requested, over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and I could already feel my hair sticking to my neck. I quickly slipped into the change room and stripped off my jogging pants and a t-shirt, and changed into my spandex shorts and tank top for tonight's super intense, super sweaty class.

When I returned, I was happy to find that most of my students were seated on their mats in Siddhasana, the basic starting pose, ready for my lesson.

"Hello everyone, welcome to tonight's class," I said in a quiet voice, trying to settle down the chatter at the back of the room and bring everyone's attention to their breathing. I turned off the lights so the room was dimly lit, and instructed everyone to sit with their eyes closed for a few minutes to bring awareness to their body in preparation for the intense activity it would undergo tonight.

More importantly, I always blushed at the beginning of the class out of nervousness, so the darkness covered that right up.

I took this time to quickly scan the room for any new faces. I noticed a new girl in the front row, seated right beside Angela, and a couple guys at the back. _Great,_ I thought. The one time I wear next to nothing is the night the guys decide to show up. They must have some sort of sixth sense or built-in radar telling them when and where scantily-clad, yoga practising women would be gathered.

As I was conducting a quick head count, I noticed a familiar mop of bronze hair in the second row. I stretched up to see Edward Cullen's eyes wide open and focused on me. I instantly blushed at the realization where his eyes must have been this whole five minutes – that being my exposed body – and he just fucking smirked at me in response.

_Fuck my life._ Why in God's name was he doing yoga anyway? He was the type of asshole who needed to take his aggressions out on a punching bag, not sit through a serene ninety-minute hot yoga class.

Nonetheless, it was my obligation to be polite and courteous to each and every member of my class, despite my personal biases.

"I see we have some new faces in our class tonight. The lady in the pink tank top toward the back... your name?" I prompted to a superficial looking brunette chick. She was decked out from head to toe in Lululemon gear, including a headband and hair elastics. The easiest way to spot a poser was to check out their yoga attire. Head to toe name brand indicated they didn't give a shit about anything but declaring to the world that they did yoga. _Right_.

"I'm Jessica. Jessica Stanley," the brunette replied energetically. She had a fake smile and a tart-like voice, and I could tell already she was going to be the girl snickering at my poor balance throughout the entire class.

"Welcome Jessica," I said, and the class repeated in unison, "Welcome Jessica." I was beginning to feel like I was at an Alcoholics Anonymous group meeting instead of my 'yoga for runners' class.

"And you sir, in the grey tank top and black shorts," I said to Edward in my most oblivious voice, trying to pretend that I didn't have a clue who he was.

"I'm Edward Cullen," he said in a soft, velvety voice. "I'm here because I tore a ligament in my knee and my physiotherapist recommended it." _There. That wasn't so hard to be respectful and not make an ass of yourself, now was it?_ "Also, I heard this is where all the good looking ladies hang out," he joked, and all the women around him began panting and parting their legs. So much for respectful.

"Right. Welcome Edward." I broke up the ladies' lust quickly, because I was in no mood to have my yoga class become a kama sutra lesson. "As most of you may know, I'm Bella, and I have been teaching this class for just over a year."

I hated these generic introductions but I felt like it helped me express that I wasn't some yoga hippie, but rather a serious runner who supplemented it with yoga. Truth be told, fuck if I knew who I really was.

"Ever since I started running on a regular basis, I began to learn the importance of stretching my muscles through yogic practices. What we do in this class is as crucial to your running as your running routine itself. I especially recommend it for marathoners, whether you are in the early stages of training, or have already ran four." I looked directly at Edward in reference to the last bit. He grinned at me, which made me nervous and uneasy.

I shook off his dashing looks and tried to focus on the newcomer in the class; a burly, dark haired man with a very muscular body, almost to the point where he looked intimidating. He made a ruckus in an attempt to quietly seat himself beside Edward, because he couldn't quite figure out how to situate his mat and vast array of yoga accessories. He sort of just stood there, looking at all the crap he'd brought, in complete bewilderment.

"This is not your typical yoga class," I continued, ignoring the newcomer until he settled down. "If you are used to lots of breathing and meditation and crap, you're at the wrong yoga studio. 'Hale Pilates and Athletic Yoga' prides itself on its strenuous and rigorous classes and personal training sessions. If you aren't prepared to sweat for a good hour and a half and physically strain muscles you didn't even know existed, please find your way to the nearest door." I paused for a second to see if anyone wanted to leave. No takers.

Fuck. 

_Edward Cullen, you're in for a real treat. _

"Alright then. First we're going to warm up with a rapid cycle of twenty five sun salutations."

"Hi," the jacked dark hair guy beside Edward piped up. He was holding a yoga brick and used it to wave to the class. "I'm Emmett McCarty."

_Double fuck. _

Edward and his fucking attorney decided to come to my class and make a mockery of it. I was seriously not in the mood for this. The joke would be on them though, when they wouldn't be able to walk for a week after my class.

"Welcome Emmett McCarty," I responded apathetically, not bothering to look at him. I grabbed the clipboard from beside my mat and scribbled down the names of the three newcomers for attendance purposes. I stashed it aside carelessly and was about to give the class a lecture on coming to class five minutes early, not ten minutes _late_, when he opened his mouth yet again. He seemed to smile when he spoke, which is when I noticed subtle dimples in his cheeks. It made him significantly less intimidating.

"If you want to know why I'm late, yoga master," he began, plopping down in the centre of his mat, "it's because-"

"You needed to rent a van to haul all your yoga accessories?" I interrupted.

Edward furrowed his brow at Emmett's excessive yoga apparel and began chuckling, which he tried to cover up as a cough.

"No miss, but I've never been to one of these classes, so I didn't know what to expect," he countered. "I was actually late because the woman at the front desk, who, by the way," he turned to face Edward, "is a fuckin smokeshow, decided to give me a lecture on coming into her studio five minutes late for a class, unprepared. She then suckered me into buying all this," he waved his arms at all the stuff in front of him, which now made sense, "and that is why I'm late." He let out an exasperated breath.

"Well unfortunately for you McCarty, you only really need a basic yoga mat for my class. Rosalie is just really good at getting guys to drop their wallets at her feet," I replied coolly. "Now, if you don't mind, I want to get started on our twenty-five sun salutations."

Near the end of the class Emmett and Edward had to take a twenty minute breather from the class. They opted on sprawling out on their mats and fanning themselves with their drenched t-shirts. The sight of the two men, with impeccable bodies, without shirts on, was enough to distract the rest of the ladies in the class from my lesson.

If it was at all possible, by the end of my class I was ten times tenser than before. The guys made innuendos and inside jokes whenever all the girls participated in suggestive moves, such as bending down, which made me really nervous. For the most part I was able to avoid falling or tripping over my own two feet – something which was a daily occurrence for me.

"Namaste, class," I said to the group as they slowly piled out of the room looking like zombies. The ninety minute hot yoga session was sure to get everyone's muscles aching by tomorrow.

Just as I was throwing all my gear into my ratty backpack, I saw in my periphery, two chiselled, shirtless figures approaching me.

"_Now what,"_ I muttered under my breath.

"Great class Bella," Emmett said, extending a sweaty hand for me to shake. I looked at it for a moment, but then shook it and tucked my hands behind my back. I didn't intend to be a bitch to him, only Edward.

"Thanks guys," I looked up through my eyelashes shyly – a habit I had when I was nervous.

Edward had a devious look in his eyes, likely from conjuring up dirty thoughts in his mind, and I decided now was as good as ever to confront him. It was paramount to catch him off guard.

"So do you want to knock down this building too?" I snapped, looking him straight in the eye.

"Whew, she _is_ a nasty one, isn't she?" Emmett commented, then quickly cupped his hand over his mouth. "Sorry yoga master, I didn't mean any disrespect," he said sincerely.

I smiled involuntarily, because the fact that he called me yoga master was really frickin weird and made me laugh.

"Aha! So I see the devil _does_ smile," Edward said, grinning widely, perhaps trying to lighten the mood.

"Edward, why is it that when women are fierce in the business world, they are she-devils. But when men are fierce in the business world, they are successful businessmen. Do you care to enlighten me?" I began tapping my foot impatiently and his eyes began dancing. Last time that happened, it indicated a fire was igniting within him.

"Oh Bella, are you still caught up on that silly thing? And you're hardly a business woman. You're a lawyer, just like Emmett here."

Emmett's eyes widened with intrigue. "A lawyer? Really?" he asked. "What firm? I might have heard of you."

"I doubt it," Edward cut in. "Simply non-profit, poor person crap. You know, homeless alcoholics and the like."

What a douche.

"Actually, I specialize in women's and children's rights, something that is overshadowed by pretentious corporate law," I sneered, "and the like."

"Hmm. Then I suppose I wouldn't have heard of you. There's really no money in that Bella," Emmett said, as if he was letting me in on some big secret. "Why do you do it?"

Was he seriously that thick?

"Because I care. That's why. Isn't that why you went to law school Emmett? To make a difference?"

That concept seemed to fly right over his head, and he looked at me blankly. "I went to law school cuz I wanted to play ball for three more years." Well, at least he was honest with himself, unlike Edward.

"So, Bella. What law school did you attend?" Edward prompted, clearly trying to strike a chord.

"Boston College," I replied flatly.

The spark in Edward's eyes lit up again, clearly delighted at the prospect of bashing my alma mater. "Not Harvard? Why is that?"

"Meh, I did the Harvard thing. Hated it. Now, are you here to interview me on my career, or did you have something important to say?"

"Nope, I just wanted to say you did a great class. I haven't done yoga before, because it's kinda gay, but since my physiotherapist recommended it, I thought I might as well give it a go. I'm actually surprised you work at the most upscale studio in the city though," he shrugged. "I'd have pegged you for a YMCA type girl," he added condescendingly.

"Yah, well, hot chick that Emmett wants to bone is my roommate, so she hooked me up with this gig." I turned on my heels to leave when I felt a sweaty grip on my arm.

I turned around, and Emmett was smiling widely, showing off those damn adorable dimples.

"Please can you get me a date with her? Just one? She's the hottest woman I've ever seen. And she's strangely familiar..." Wow, he really did have shit for brains. Must have been those football concussions.

"Yah? Maybe that's because she's on this month's cover of GQ and Sports Illustrated?" I waited for a light bulb to go off...

"Oh, damn!" Emmett exclaimed, becoming increasingly excited (and probably horny) by the minute.

"And, uh, no, I won't get you a date. Sorry man, I like you, but your buddy here is a complete dick who's trying to bust down my building," I glared daggers at Edward. "And since you work for this dick, you're also involved in knocking down my building. So why should I do you any favours?"

Emmett's faced dropped and he was about to make a deal with the devil when Edward butt in.

"Seriously man, you don't want her. I tapped that. She's overrated."

Emmett looked seriously crushed for a moment, and then became seriously irate which is when I made my move and snuck out of the room. I could hear the two yelling at each other about Rosalie all the way down the hall.

Incidentally, she was sitting at the front desk smacking her bubble gum and flipping through a gossip magazine as I made my way to the front of the studio.

"Hey Bella," she said half-heartedly. "Ugh, yay, now I can finally shut this place down for the night. And wow, you look rough. Tough class?" she got up and began flicking off the front lights and shutting down the computer.

"You could say that. And oh, by the way, you have two jacked guys fighting over you in the yoga room. I suggest you break it up or call for backup."

She looked puzzled for a minute and then peered at the class sign-in sheet on top of her desk.

"Let me guess... Edward dickward Cullen?" she rolled her eyes.

"Yep, and Emmett McCarty."

She peered back down at the sheet. "Oh, right. The ten minutes late dude. What a dolt he was," she shook her head in disbelief.

"Yep. And incidentally Edward's personal attorney, consultant, and roommate."

"Fuck, for real?" she dropped her magazine and hopped up off her stool. "I thought he had shit for brains? Oh damn, I better break them up. This won't end well."

I nodded my head in agreement. "Good luck," I called out to her on my way out the door, "See ya at home."

--

The next morning I woke up, went for a relatively successful run, and upon returning back to my house, noticed that my car was lower on one side than it was the other. I pulled my earphones out and went over to examine the tires carefully, because it looked from here to be a flat tire. Clearly a case of driving over some nails in a construction site or something careless like that, which would unfortunately involve hours of work and hundreds of dollars getting new tires put on.

"_Fuck! How fucking inconvenient,"_ I grunted, kicking up the gravel in frustration. I then got a fucking rock in my running shoe, which made me ten times angrier.

As I got closer to the car, however, I noticed it was more than just an inconvenient flat. My front right and back right tires had been slashed.

I gasped and covered my mouth in shock, and became queasy over the first name that came to mind.

_Edward Cullen. _

**A/N: Please don't hate on me! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, all. You're amazing. This goes out to funkydiva1978 because she's just all sorts of amazing and has given me lots of awesome plot suggestions. Please check out her story "The Delicate Dance of Marriage" -- it's just as awesome as it sounds. **

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. **

**BPOV**

It couldn't be.

He couldn't possibly hate me so much that he'd go out of his way and slash my tires. I mean, COME ON. Who does that?

He does, apparently.

It all added up to him being the culprit. He hated me and wanted to scare me or something so I'd just give up on the building ordeal.

He needed to know I wasn't a quitter.

It _had_ to be him.

He knew where I lived; he'd driven me home after the hospital and obviously Alice lived here so he knew that much. He may not have ever visited his nearly estranged sister, but he certainly knew where she lived.

So the fucker wanted to play dirty? I could play dirty. I could play dirty _all night long_.

Instead of kick the crap out of my tires for being slashed, I decided on a less emotional and more logical path, that being I went inside and picked up the phone and called the tow guy.

In less than half an hour he managed to replace my tires and handed me a hefty bill. I thanked him sincerely, but not before he cautioned me that this was done by a professional to look like an accident.

"You can really tell that from just looking at the tire?" I asked, curious if he would be able to find enough evidence to convict Edward.

He grunted as he kneeled down and looked at my now deflated tires lying sadly on the pavement. "Miss, let's just say when I see a pretty young lady like yourself getting her tires slashed, it's more than just accidental. See these marks," he pointed to the slashes, "they were done with a heavy duty industrial instrument of sorts. This ain't no Mickey Mouse tire slashing."

My stomach dip flips and I took a deep breath to keep my composure. I assured the man that I knew who it was and I'd be fine, but he only left once he was completely convinced.

As I hurried inside to shower and get ready for work, I decided a surprise lunch visit at Edward's office would be only so courteous considering the effort he'd went through to slash my tires. Or at least, the effort he went through to hire someone to slash my tires.

--

"Edward, that annoying Isabella Swan is here for another surprise meeting," the bitchy strawberry blonde secretary fumed into the phone. "Yes I know you're busy, and I truly apologize, but would you please just send her away yourself." She shot an intimidating glare my way and I sneered back at her. "She refuses to leave."

After some Oscar award winning performance of sighing and being as ignorant as humanly possible, the secretary showed me inside Edward's office, who was again sitting at his desk with a pile of work in front of him, looking utterly distracted.

"Thank your lucky stars that for some godforsaken reason you're my sister's best friend or else I'd have no patience for someone as persistent as you," he said, not bothering to look up from his work.

"Yes, well, good afternoon to you too." I looked around his office, envying his beautiful view of the lake before sitting down in a plush leather chair.

"Would you like something to drink?" Edward asked quietly, then stood up and walked over to a liquor hutch and began pouring something out of a crystal decanter.

"No, I'm fine thanks," I replied curtly. I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not and I didn't want to press my luck.

"So, Isabella," he sighed loudly and took a generous sip of what appeared to be scotch on the rocks. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you today?"

Yep. He was definitely being sarcastic.

"Well Edward, I don't want to waste your time-" I began, before I was rudely cut off.

"You're already three minutes too late for that," he looked at his watch and held up his finger. "Make that four. If I was charging you by the hour I'd have already rounded this up to a half hour's work. Time is money Isabella," he cautioned.

"Bella," I said firmly. "My name is Bella."

He looked slightly taken aback at my correcting him, but then grinned. "Such an odd name for someone like you, isn't it?"

His eyes were blazing and intense, which meant that like last time, I was in for a slew of jargon-laden insults.

"Why is that? Because it means beautiful in Italian, which I'm clearly not?" I asked, not really giving a damn about his witty comebacks.

I searched his eyes; for what, I don't know. Perhaps I thought that by staring deep into his eyes, his cruel soul would be revealed and I could gain the power to accuse him of slashing up my tires. I couldn't very well just storm into someone's office and accuse them of a crime if they hadn't committed it, or at the very least I couldn't do so without any evidence. That was lesson one in law school, and I'd be damned if I fuelled Edward for a rebuttal of a thousand and one legal terms and "lack of just cause," and harassment charges amongst this and that and the other. He appeared to be a better lawyer than me at this point.

"Now Bella, I wouldn't say you're not beautiful," his voice was velvety and he spoke slowly and carefully, choosing his words with caution. "If it weren't for your lack of regard for anyone else's professional obligations and filthy mouth I'd have actually found you somewhat attractive. I just meant that Isabella is such a ladylike name, which clearly, you aren't."

Not as bad as I thought, I suppose. I mean he did just call me beautiful, which was a hell of a lot better than what I was expecting. My stomach did weird, wonderful things when he called me beautiful, and I'd forgotten all about why I was here in the first place.

Right. Slashed tires.

"Can I ask where you were this morning?" I demanded. I decided it was best to ignore his babbling about my name and play his 'don't waste my time, I'm the most successful person alive, I don't have time for your nonsense' card.

He raised his eyebrow, his interest peaking about something I'd said. "Well, if you really want to know about my morning routine, first I get up, do a thousand sit-ups, jog seven miles on my treadmill... which I used to do on a running path but funnily enough I haven't had the desire to go there lately. Too many uncoordinated people," he smiled wryly and continued on, "and then I take a shower, read the newspaper while I eat my steel cut oats, and then drive into this god-awful city for my mind-numbing job."

Clearly he wasn't going to mention the fact that he snuck over to slash my tires.

"Fine, Edward. You want to play games? I'm really good at games. In fact, I love games. I was going to make a deal before a certain someone did a certain something, and now the last thing I want to do is settle. I'll see you and Emmett McCarty in court." I stormed out of his office, not even bothering to make some sarcastic remark at the stupid secretary on my way out.

I went straight over to my office and shuffled through the stack of mail at my desk hoping that Edward sent some witty letter that alluded to his recent attack. Unfortunately, there was no such letter addressed to me from Edward Cullen, but there was an anonymous letter in the same stationary that Edward used to write his ridiculous letter telling me he was evicting me due to posing a fire hazard to his building.

I eagerly ripped open the letter and held it out in front of me.

"_Isabella, if I were you I'd sleep with one eye open." _

That was simple enough. Of course it was him; he was the only person, next to Dr. Cullen of course, who called me Isabella. And even so, I usually only had to correct Dr. Cullen once before he remembered I hated being called Isabella.

Edward called me Isabella to annoy me.

I picked up the phone and dialled the number of Edward's company. Once the operator answered, I requested to be connected to Emmett McCarty.

"_Yello_, Emmett McCarty here," he said, presumably on a cell phone because the background was all scratchy, and seriously, what kind of lawyer would answer their own office phone besides me?

"Hi Emmett, Bella Swan calling," I paused, waiting for his response.

"Oh Bella! Hi! Are you calling to remind me about next week's yoga class? Because believe you me, I've been going to pretty much every pilates and yoga class I can handle just to catch a glimpse of that beautiful boss of yours. In fact, I even went to Bust-Your-Butt Pilates because she was teaching it. Man oh man, did she ever bust her butt. And did I forget to mention what she was wearing?"

"Emmett, that's wonderful," I interrupted, trying to get down to business here. "I'm pleased you enjoy the classes. But that's not why I am calling. I'm calling to set up a court date with you. Edward Cullen is trying to knock down my building, and well, I'm not allowing it. He won't settle so we're going to court."

"Hmmm..." he paused for a second, then finished chewing and swallowed what I assumed was his lunch. "Bella, as Edward's attorney I would advise you to accept his offer. We'll make sure you get enough money to relocate somewhere else."

"Emmett, as Edward's attorney I would suggest you stick to advising your own client," I replied harshly, and instantly felt bad about using such a tone on him. It wasn't his fault, and he was just trying to be nice. "But thanks," I continued. "I'm not settling though. We're going to battle this out the hard way and I _will_ get my way.

Emmett groaned loudly, and I could tell he didn't want to fight this case; perhaps because he liked me as a person, or perhaps because he didn't want this to ruin his chances with Rosalie. I settled on the latter.

"Listen, this won't necessarily hurt your chances with Rosalie. Rosalie hates Edward, so I doubt she'll take it out on you. I seriously don't want to fight it out with you either."

"Aw, thanks Bella, you rock. I'm lovin' those classes by the way."

"No problem Emmett. Just warn your client that he's in for a real treat with me. He won't know what hit him."

"Alright, sounds good, I'll let Edward know. Just so you know, Edward's never lost a case against him. He gets sued all the time, but he's never once settled or lost. Just a friendly heads' up," he added.

"Gotcha. Talk to you later Emmett. Take it easy."

Later that day I received a subpoena from Emmett to inspect my building and files for any evidence of fire hazards. Attached to the very last page was a post it with a note on it.

"_This is the last you'll hear from me on this case. I've decided to drop it. Best of luck. - Emmett." _

That was relatively decent, I supposed. It was reassuring to see that Edward at least hung around with a few decent people, who might at least be able to instil some good in him.

With a crew of cops and guys from the fire and safety board coming over to ransack my office, I told everyone we were taking the rest of the day off and decided on doing some self-preservation of my own.

I texted Rosalie and arranged to meet her downtown for a quick lunch. I desperately needed to find out how she really knew Edward Cullen.

Right on time, Rosalie met up with me and we decided on a table outside on the patio overlooking the water.

I breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed the sound of seagulls overhead before Rosalie lit up a cigarette.

"Ew, Rose, you know that habit's deadly," I warned her. I'd been trying to get her to quit for years but she insisted that if she did she'd gain weight and her modelling career would be shot to shit.

"Bella, today's not the day," she exhaled the toxic smoke slowly, cautious enough not to get it in my face. "You look like you need one though. You want?" she passed me the pack but I declined.

"Nah, I like being alive thanks," I said sardonically.

She looked at me but then we both burst out into laughter at my last comment.

"Anyway," I continued, grateful that she didn't take my nagging personally today. "Where's Alice?"

"Work," Rosalie replied, looking around absentmindedly in the distance -- something she only did when her mind was elsewhere.

"You seem distracted," I noted, grabbing a smoke from her pack. I carefully lit it and took a deep drag.

Rose raised her eyebrows at my smoking but then decided against commenting. "Emmett McCarty has sent me two dozen roses every hour on the frickin' hour today." She sounded utterly perplexed. She took a long drag of her cigarette and flicked the ash on the pavement.

"Yeah? So? You have like hundreds of guys lusting over you every day. Not to mention doing other things in the presence of your Sports Illustrated spread. I'm sure roses are pretty mild compared to what you're used to receiving in the mail."

"He sent me my favourite roses. And poems. It sounds cheesy, but really, it's not. It's kind of sweet actually. Like I know he's a bad guy, I remember hearing about him through Edward when we went to school together. He was a real spoiled kid, right, since his dad's a senator and all," she explained. "He's pretty famous as a society boy, and with the luck I've had with that type I really just need a good guy for a change. I don't think Emmett is what you would call a good guy."

"Well, I can say this much. He had the opportunity to make a killing working on Edward's case to shut down my building, but he didn't. He did it out of respect. I think that's all you need to convince you that he's not your typical frat guy." I took a sip of my water, scanning the restaurant for our waitress when I nearly spit my drink out all over Rose's face.

"Bella?! Are you okay?" Rose exclaimed, handing me a cloth napkin to clean the mess up with. "You nearly choked!"

I couldn't speak, but pointed over to Edward who was seated at a table diagonal to us with an attractive brunette. He was wearing his full business attire, but had his tie loosened around his neck, and the skankette was wearing a tight white sundress.

"Ugh, Dickward Cullen is eating lunch at the same restaurant, surprise surprise," she said dryly, not fazed in the least.

"Surprise surprise Rose? I think you need to start telling me what you know about said dickhead."

Edward noticed our attention was set on him and seemingly loved it. He smiled that wretched cocky smile and stood up and walked over to us.

"Bella, Rose, what a surprise," he smirked. "I was just out to lunch with Jessica over there, my lovely young intern. What a coincidence. Should we bring two tables together?"

He wasn't as much asking as he was insisting, because he motioned to the waitress to bring the tables over and she did so obligingly.

_Fuck. _

"Rosalie Hale, it's been too long," Edward said, extending his hand out to shake hers. She looked at it for a minute and shook it, but glared at him and his skanky date.

"It's been three weeks Edward, so not long at all really," Rosalie replied, looking at the menu so as to seem disinterested.

"Rosalie and I dated for a couple months," he said to his new date. I nearly choked on my water again. "Bella, you look flustered. Are you having trouble drinking your water?" he spoke to me cunningly because he knew damn well why I was upset.

"Rosalie and you did date eh?" I said, kicking Rosalie under the table. "Well isn't that interesting."

"OW!" she exclaimed, kicking me back without any subtlety.

"Ladies, ladies, don't fight on my account. If we're going to have a girl fight then let's all head over to my place where we can continue this in privacy," he grinned deviously at me. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him but I decided against it, since it was utterly immature.

"You wish," Rosalie sneered.

"No Rosalie, I don't wish. If I'd have wanted that it would have happened by now. Now," he said, looking over at me. "We meet again Bella. What a surprise. I thought you'd have gone home and packed up to leave the country after receiving the subpoena."

"Actually, I'm all the more excited for a challenge. Especially since Emmett already backed down." I tried to gauge his reaction to see if he was aware of Emmett dropping the case on my account, but he showed no sign of peaked interest.

"Yes, well. Emmett's reassigned himself to a more challenging case. I have a good lawyer on your cute little tail though. Don't you worry; with the city on our side there probably won't even be a need -- or opportunity -- to go to court."

"Is he always this annoying?" I asked the brunette girl who seemed blissfully unaware of our banter. If I didn't know any better I'd have thought she was on a high dose of Valium.

"He's my boss, and of course he's not annoying. He just doesn't like certain people." She applied lip gloss using the reflection of her soup spoon and Edward furrowed his brow at her disapprovingly.

"Wow Edward, you're so lucky to have such bright young interns working for you. How old is this one? Nineteen?" I gave the brunette a quick once-over as she kept an icy glare on me.

"Actually, twenty two," the brunette snapped at me. "Eddie, I have to run to the little girls' room. Keep an eye out for the waitress to bring me a Perrier with lemon," she instructed as she stroked his shoulder affectionately. He removed her hand from his shoulder and ignored her.

"So now that we're rid of _that_," I said, earning a laugh out of Edward who tried to cover it up as a cough, "let's have a real person conversation."

"Here here," Rose held up her wine glass and took a sip of chardonnay. "So Eddie," she mocked, "What have you been up to besides trying to bash down Bella's building? Anything notable?"

Edward pulled out his BlackBerry and looked intently at it. "Not sure," he replied, tucking it back in his pocket. "I mean, yes, I've been contributing greatly to... my own bank account I suppose. I was going to say society, but really, who am I fooling? Jobs like that are for people like Bella here who went to state schools. And bus drivers."

I snorted, completely disgusted with his abhorrent narcissism.

"Do we think someone got lost on her way to the little girls' room?" I jeered, mimicking the brunette's unnaturally bubbly and high-pitched voice.

"A Dr. Sweet Cheeks she is not, but she certainly is flexible. And she's willing to do anything."

I had a feeling his statement applied far beyond the office confines.

"Flexibility is always good in an employee," Rosalie added, pulling out a cigarette. Mine was completely done so I flicked the ash to the side of me which accidentally landed on Edward's pant.

"Disgusting, Swan," he muttered as he tried to clean it off with a cloth dipped in ice water. "I never knew a yoga goddess to be a smoker."

"I thought you said you never did yoga before, hence not knowing any other yoga 'goddesses' beyond myself," I retorted.

"Oh just because I don't do yoga doesn't mean I don't do yoga related... people." He wasn't even trying to cover up the fact that he was a sleazy manwhore.

The waitress arrived at the table, with Jessica lagging behind shortly after, ready to lick up the ash leftover on Edward's pants if that's what he asked of her.

"Oh Edward, what will I order?" she asked, looking wide-eyed at the menu awaiting his response.

"It wouldn't kill you to eat a salad," he replied coldly. Surely enough, that's what she ordered; a house salad with no dressing and a Perrier.

Edward ordered something that looked about ready to walk off the plate; a steak -- supposedly -- that was seeping out blood, with a side of a Caesar salad.

I turned my nose up at his unappetizing slab of meat, and delicately twirled my alfredo around my fork. Rosalie settled on a vegetarian frittata of sorts, because she was in for a photo shoot later this week and didn't want anything that would cause bloating.

"So Rosalie, still doing the Playboy photo shoots? Or have you gotten too old for those gigs?" Edward took a bite of steak and licked the bit of juice that landed on his lip.

"Edward, fuckward, you know I never do fully nude or any of that garbage. It's strictly GQ, Victoria's Secret, Sports Illustrated... you know, tasteful spreads," Rosalie replied defensively. "Nobody sees these treasures but a select few," she grabbed her boobs and Edward shifted around in his seat uncomfortably. She then proceeded to rub them together for a minute, just enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Slut," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh you liked it," she purred. He rolled his eyes and focused back on his steak.

"I'd hardly say they still constitute a select few," he added. "Maybe when you were twelve it was select."

Rosalie defensively slapped his arm and Jessica shot an evil death-glare her way. "Ladies, please. Settle down. I'm sure Edward doesn't appreciate being hit like that."

I nearly choked on my food at how stupid this broad was. I tried to recover from my almost-choke, but as a result, I actually started choking really badly.

I started heaving and panicking, and I could feel my face fluster and turn hot. In record speed, Edward was by my side expertly performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on me, gently but extremely effectively. Soon the piece of food hacked its way out of my system and landed on the cement in front of me. _Gross. _

Edward gently patted me on the back and then chuckled. "That's twice I saved your life Swan," he said, his goddamn eyes sparkling. He took his seat and ordered that the waitress bring over another glass of water for me. She ran off, clicking her heels at Edward's order, but not before she shot me a glare. She was clearly devastated that I managed to live.

I smiled sweetly at her and continued on with my lunch.

"So Edward, tomorrow is the day," I began, as I shifted the food around on my plate. It was weird; all of a sudden I felt strangely nervous around him. This was unsettling.

"Tomorrow is indeed," he replied energetically. "It's not too late to back out Swan, and take my offer," he proposed.

"What offer is that?" Rosalie interjected. She was curiously eyeing me, as if I was intentionally causing problems where they didn't need to be caused. She was somewhat right on that assumption.

"I offered her a million five to just settle and build herself a new office," he explained. He took another bite of his lunch, chewing thoughtfully. "You know, you could really build yourself an incredible new office with that much, given yours is worth next to nothing as is."

"And what is the estimated worth as is?" Rosalie said, leaning forward in anticipation.

"One hundred grand," I replied coolly.

Rosalie looked at me as if I'd grown another head. "And you're rejecting Edward's offer because..."

"Because she's incorrigible," Edward stated flatly.

"Bella, this sounds just stupid. I say you take the offer and forget about this dickwad," she waved her fork at him dismissively, "and build a sick new place right beside my studio. The building that used to hold that trendy optician's office is for sale, and its price is about exactly what Edward's willing to give you."

"I don't want a million and a half dollars to build a new office. I have more than enough space in mine as is, and it's clean and does the job. Plus, it's central to all my clients who have to use public transit to get there."

"It's an eyesore and a dump and it's filthy," Edward insisted. "Please just take my offer. I'll even up it to two million, since you look extra stunning today," he said, his cocky grin dazzling me quite easily.

I couldn't tell whether he was joking or being sarcastic, but my breath hitched just a little bit. Apparently my body thought he was being charming.

"Edward, we have to go back to the office now," that annoying bitch said. I forgot she was still here.

"Oh right, thanks Stanley," he said, his eyes fixated on mine. "Think about it Bella. Please, just think about it." He raised and shook Rosalie's hand, who was scowling away at him, then shook mine. I involuntarily took it because apparently my body had other plans for me. I felt that strange jolt of electricity run through my body again, the same as what happened in the running path.

He threw down a wad of what looked to be over two hundred dollars and winked at me. "Stunning," he repeated, and left the restaurant.

I was completely in a daze until Rosalie interrupted my thoughts. "Edward Cullen just dazzled you."

**A/N: Please review! Let me know what you're thinking! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Alright, alright, who am I fooling... we all know EPOV is my favourite to write. So to honour that, I've slipped in an EPOV for y'all. If you don't like it, let me know, if you do, let me know. Then I'll write upcoming chapters accordingly... either all BPOV or a mix of BPOV/EPOV.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight; don't claim to. Stephanie Meyer does. **

**EPOV**

I learned two things today. First, Bella Swan was a fucking firecracker. Second, never invite an intern to lunch just because she happened to be a cheerleader through college and could bend in ways you would have never thought was humanly possible.

Jessica Stanley, our newest young intern, disappointed me greatly. She seemed promising from her decent resume; mind you I'd have never considered her had it not been for her physical attributes. Her transcript was solid and she had decent extracurricular activities -- okay, normally I wouldn't consider Miss Hawaiian Tropic 2006-2008 to be an extracurricular activity, but I was being more "inclusive" in my approach. Regardless, the fact that she had an extensive resume would normally indicate that she was the 'full package' that we at Cullen & Co. hired in order to maintain our stellar reputation.

Not so much. She was as dumb as a doorknob. Perhaps a doorknob was smarter. And when push came to shove, she wasn't all that attractive anyhow. I was starting to actually become repulsed by her appearance because it represented what every single woman in my life was. Shallow and fake.

I cracked the window of my Lamborghini and took a long, much needed drag of my cigarette. I let the toxins seep into my chest, relishing the sensation. I thought about Jasper and Carlisle's frequent recommendations that I should quit, but this was just too damn good to pass up. Nothing satisfied me like this anymore.

I looked ahead at the mass of traffic slowly inching down the freeway. The only thing about living right within the city limits of Boston was the damn rush hour traffic jams. Once I took my exit I could begin to break in my gears and enjoy my luxury sports car to its full extent.

I thought back to the day I met Bella jogging that one morning, and remembered our following encounters. I seriously wished that our first meeting was also our last, because each meeting after it seemed to get significantly worse.

No doubt she thought I was a pompous ass and thought I was guilty of another slew of issues too.

I jerked my car into second gear and then slid off at my exit, swiftly and smoothly shifting into top gear and speeding down the deserted country road to my estate.

I noticed Emmett's Range Rover parked diagonally out front, a habit of his that pissed me off royally. Nonetheless I was glad he was home because I had beef with him about this Bella Swan case he so casually dropped behind my back.

"Good evening Master Cullen," my butler Aro called out to me as I entered the foyer.

"Hey, what's up Aro. Do you know where Emmett is?"

"He's using the gym for the _second_ time this evening," Aro said, rolling his eyes.

"Right. Thanks." I ran up to my room, grabbed my shorts and flung a towel around my shoulder and ran down the four flights of stairs to the basement. Several televisions were playing and I could hear the clanking of weights coming from the weight room. Emmett was struggling with a bench press of almost more than twice his weight, and goddamn it how many times did I warn him to use either me or Aro as a spotter when he did stupid shit like that.

Just when the bar was about to fall on his neck and kill him, I swiftly grabbed it and lowered it back on the rack.

"Whew, thanks man," Emmett said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "That's intense shit. We should probably stick to the yoga, eh?" he joked, rising up and punching my shoulder lightly.

"Yah, whatever, I saved your life so you owe me. Why the hell did you drop the Swan case?"

Emmett looked stunned at my question, but then shrugged. "When the hell did you even bother looking into any of the cases involving strictly the company? It's a division of our own. It's not a personal claim against you; she's suing you on the basis of not getting her building knocked down. We've taken care of it."

"Yah but I specifically stated that I want involvement in the case. And then you just reassign it? Who the hell is on it now? Some amateur junior lawyer who doesn't know shit about anything cept what the books tell him? Emmett, you know you're my best. And I want to win this case."

Emmett shrugged and headed out the room, so I followed behind. He got on a treadmill, and I hopped on the one right beside him.

"You _think_ I'm your best?" he said sarcastically, grinning widely. "I know I'm your best Cullen. I get down and dirty with these cases. I make my own motherfuckin rules," he boasted, kicking the treadmill speed up to 7mph. I sighed and followed suit, because hell, why not do two workouts today like the fool.

"Yah and the fact that you're a moose doesn't hurt either," I muttered. "I mean, a fucking football player, six foot something beast, sure everyone's just gonna step back when they see you in court."

"Yep, yep. That's me bro. So when the hell did you even figure this shit out? How did you even figure it out? You usually don't give a damn about what's going on in our elite division of attorneys."

I looked forward at the television; no doubt some Sports Illustrated cover shoot video was on, and Rosalie Hale was sitting there in a bathrobe on the beach being primped for her shoot.

"Fuck man, you have it badddd," I said to Emmett, jerking my head toward the television.

"Purely coincidental," he said, and damnit, for a lawyer he was bad at bluffing. Why I had a lawyer who couldn't lie to save his life working on my most important cases I'll never know.

"Right, so I assume that's why you dropped my case? Conflict of interest?"

He nodded and took a gulp of water from his water bottle, then sprayed the rest of it over his face.

"Fuck that Emmett. She's a fucking tease. You don't want Rosalie Hale. And even if you do, which by the way I'd advise against it over and over since she's a demanding and spoiled bitch, she's definitely not interested. If Rose is interested she will tell you. She's not subtle like you." I lowered the speed to 6.5 mph to catch my breath, but he pumped his up to 7.5 mph.

"Pussy," he muttered.

"Roid-rage," I muttered back. "Why'd you drop the case," I persisted.

"Conflict of interest, and to be perfectly honest, I kinda like Bella. I mean sure she's got a sad excuse for a job, and her salary's only about a tenth of what I pay in taxes a year, but hell, she's a good girl. And your corp has bullied enough people, man. It's time you start doing some good deeds. It's bad for your public image," he said, catching his breath and bumping up the speed again.

"What the fuck man? Are you training for a marathon now?" I raised my eyebrows at him but he didn't answer so I left it alone. When Emmett was stressed about something it was best to let him be. "Anyway, Swan's accusing me of something," I added. "Came busting into my office demanding my whereabouts and all sorts of stuff like that. Could you tail her for awhile? See what's going on with that?"

Besides being my personal and corporate attorney, Emmett was the go-to guy for all my dirty work, such as following clients we suspected were dirty – such as those who made deals they couldn't follow through with. Nothing mob-like, just double checking certain circumstances before we launched into a deal. Being Senator McCarty's son, he had more than enough connections in the feds who were willing to help him out on any need-to-know basis.

"Yah I'll keep an eye on her, on the d/l."

We pounded out a couple more miles on the treadmill then bonded over beers and football for the rest of the night.

***

I was thoroughly enjoying my rich, full-bodied espresso and the New York Times at eight o'clock in my office when Bella Swan came barging through my doors, wearing some tight fitting beige skirt and a ice-blue silk blouse. Her wavy hair landed right at her breasts, showcasing considerable cleavage since it was unbuttoned enough to show a bit of a racy black bra. To top it off, she was wearing the highest and sexiest heels I'd ever seen. Needless to say, I had to strategically place the newspaper on my lap to avoid an awkward greeting.

"Ah, yes, just come right in Miss Swan," I said bemused, not bothering to take a second look at her. I didn't want her to think her outfit was actually achieving the reaction she was hoping for.

"Edward, can I ask again – where were you this morning? I find it difficult to believe that you have nothing to do with any of the annoying letters I've been receiving," she demanded, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs.

"Well I suppose my new attorney's probably been sending a few friendly reminders about the case," I speculated, not really sure what she was on about. I recall telling my new eager young attorney assigned to the case, Felix something or other, to make it 'unpleasant' for Bella to remain in the fight for her shack, but I didn't ever specify what antics to employ.

"Hah, you call those friendly?" she raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well you wanna keep playing hardball Cullen? I'm all about busting balls," she seethed.

"Hmm I bet you are," I said flatly, turning the page of my newspaper to the business section.

Before I could get to the page however, the paper was snatched from my hands by Bella, who started ripping it up in front of me.

"Jesus Christ woman, what is your problem? You bust into my office and start throwing these wild accusations at me," I stood up from my chair and walked over in front of her. "Are you sure you're even mentally fit enough to be a lawyer?" I asked condescendingly, making sure to keep my voice calm and contained.

"Tell your attorney to quit it with the games, Edward, or I'm filing harassment charges."

Surely she was overreacting. I'm almost positive that Felix, a Harvard law graduate no less, would definitely ensure that he kept his threats within the confines of the law.

"Bella, if that's all you have to say, then I'm going to have to bid you good riddance," I said, gently taking her by the arm and leading her out the door. "Thanks for stopping by, have a great day." I closed the door in her face and took a long sip of my espresso, rather unsettled about all this unnecessary drama first thing in the morning. I felt like my office was Grand Central Station, where anyone could just waltz in and out freely.

I headed to the reception area where Bella was giving Tanya a mouthful about me. I heard something along the lines of 'pompous ass' when I cleared my throat to interrupt their banter.

"Tanya, what the hell kind of security do we have going on here? Without a doubt next time Miss Swan enters my office she will have a bomb strapped to her, and we're just letting her in freely as if this is the local soup kitchen."

"I am _so_ sorry Mr. Cullen," Tanya replied all flustered, "I've tried threatening her and security has certainly tried restraining her, but Goddamnit she's strong and they didn't want to hurt her so they just let her in. I didn't know what to do," she said, hanging her head in defeat.

"That's fine Tanya, I'm sure you've done all you could. Now Miss Swan, do I have to remind you about trespassing laws?" I looked her in the eyes and couldn't help but chuckle, because her previously perfectly smoothed together appearance was completely shot to shit, making her look completely dishevelled. Despite that, it only made her look hotter. It reminded me of what she'd look like if I ravished her in on my office desk. She was a hot mess.

I had a feeling that Alice dressed her for the occasion this morning, with her own motives. I made a mental note to call her to tell her to stop dressing the enemy and sending her over here to distract my legal intentions with her. The distracting bit was definitely working.

"Stop this _Miss Swan_ business, Edward. You know damn well you crossed the line," she spat. "I will see you in court this afternoon, you asshole." With that, Bella spun on her heels and headed to the elevator, smiling and giving me the finger as the shiny gold doors closed in my face.

"Well, that was an interesting start to my day," I muttered to Tanya, who was in my face waiting for me to throw orders her way. "Uh, just keep up with reception for today. I'll give you more to do this afternoon." For the first time, my orders to Tanya weren't full of sexual innuendos, and her dropped face indicated she knew that.

"Yes Mr. Cullen."

***

**BPOV**

After my most unpleasant confrontation with the pretentious Dickward Cullen I was in a foul mood. It should have started when I received a threatening phone call followed by an equally threatening letter stating that I was on thin ice and should leave town unless I wanted to get hurt. Not knowing what the hell to think of it, I thought it was a joke or something, or maybe a letter from another angry abusive husband whose wife I was defending for rape and domestic violence charges. When I asked Angela about it, she said a man dropped it off, saying I'd know what it meant, and that it had to do with something that was happening today. Apparently Angela didn't take much of a look at him because she was distracted with the phone ringing off the hook, but she said he was medium height, normal weight, and that there was nothing striking about him.

So I marched over to Edward's assuming that he sent it, or his new attorney did. He of course acted like he knew nothing about it, but then said he instructed his attorney to send some 'friendly reminders.' Yah, friendly for a terrorist or something.

I was sick to my stomach after our encounter. Besides, he didn't even check out my hot new outfit Alice gave me.

On my way to the courthouse I picked up my cell and dialled Alice's number, hoping she'd have some words of wisdom to get me through this afternoon.

"This is Alice," she chirped, presumably not checking her caller ID or she wouldn't have answered like it was a business call.

"Hey Alice, it's me," I said, taking a bite out of my chocolate muffin.

"Bella, what's that you're eating?!" she shrieked. "It sounds like carbs. Are you eating carbs? You know carbs aren't on your marathon diet... at least not at one o'clock in the afternoon!"

"I know, I know, carbs for breakfast or dinner only; oats or rice, I remember the drill," I drawled, not really caring about my marathon or anything else at the moment. "Besides, I don't think a triple chocolate muffin with double chocolate chips in it counts as carbs," I muffled, my mouth full as I took another large bite.

"Bella!" Alice protested.

"Simmer down pixie, there's bigger issues at hand. Your brother, for one." I looked ahead at all the pedestrian traffic making its way through the downtown core and opted to take the alleyway instead.

"Oh ya, you're totes getting to him, you know," she said eagerly; from the sound of her voice I could tell she was grinning widely. "He called me this morning, being all professional and rigid like he always is and he said so awkwardly, like 'hey uh, quit dressing Swan up in the morning, she's distracting me from legal issues and it's promoting sexual harassment in the workplace,'" she said in a low voice, mocking her brother's.

I laughed out loud because she actually sounded grumpy and rigid like he always did. "Seriously? You think it worked?" I was hopeful that my ten hours of pain in these ridiculous stilettos weren't for nothing.

"Um hello? A Dolce and Gabbana pencil skirt, four inch Louboutin stilettos, and a Chloe silk charmeuse blouse does _not_ go unnoticed by the opposite sex," she preached. "Not to mention La Perla lingerie."

"No doubt," I added dryly. "Anyway, that makes me feel better. I have a court date with him in like, three minutes so I'm hustling my butt over there as we speak. Wish me luck."

"Good luck Bella!! I know you'll rock it! Call me right after and tell me _everything_," she squealed. Only Alice could make a court hearing sound as juicy as a soap opera.

Just as I was nearing the end of the alley and I could see the back of the courthouse, I felt a leather-gloved hand pull me in to them and begin to attack me by wrapping their arm tightly around my neck.

"_YOU'RE IN FOR IT SWAN. IF YOU DON'T GET THE FUCK OUTTA TOWN, I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO USE YOU," _the muffled voice bellowed into my ear. It was a man's voice that was almost familiar but because it was so stifled by their mask, I couldn't be certain. All I could do was think about what Charlie, my police chief father taught me, so I turned around, kneed them in the groin and shoved the heel of my hand into their nose. As they were struggling to regain their composure I chopped my hand into their neck to cut off their air supply and ran as fast as my legs would take me in these four inch stilettos, leaving them choking and gasping for air.

Once I made it into the main street the courthouse was just across the street so I glanced at my watch to discover I was already late.

"_Fuck my life,"_ I muttered under my breath, and darted across the busy street of traffic. I bolted up the stairs of the courthouse, through the lobby while flashing the front desk reception my name tag, and ran into the courtroom.

Once I made it inside I was gasping for air so heavily that the entire jury and everyone in the courtroom turned around to look at me suspiciously.

"Hi, I'm... Bella Swan... the defense..." I managed in between breaths.

I hobbled over to the bar and was about to sign in before the judge, a harsh looking elderly woman, cleared her throat impatiently.

"_Ahem._ Excuse me? What do you think you are doing Miss Swan?"

I glanced up at the courtroom clock to see that, just my luck, it was five minutes fast. Judging by that clock I was ten minutes late for the hearing.

"You're case is closed Miss Swan," she continued, and by the look on her face I could tell a lecture was about to ensue. _Fuck._ I looked over at Edward who was completely amused with the scene before him.

"If I may object, your honour," he said as he stood up rearranging some papers in front of him. His lawyer leaned in – seemingly to advise him – but Edward was quick to dismiss him.

"Object Mr. Cullen? You've just won your case," the judge said, looking down at him over her eyeglasses.

"Well yes, your honour, but with all due respect, I'd like a fair trial." _Um, what? _"I wouldn't want to win just because Miss Swan here is unable to make her court date on time because of, well, I'm sure we can all assume why she was tardy," he reasoned.

I quickly looked down at my attire to notice that my skirt was bunched up around my knees, the top three buttons of my blouse was popped open revealing a peak of my racy black lace bra, and my makeup and hair must have only added to the conclusion that I was having a romp in the sack.

"Very well," the judge said as she raised her gavel. "The court will adjourn next Tuesday at one o'clock _promptly_, Miss Swan." She banged the gavel and I nearly jumped because I was so skittish from my alleyway assault.

I bowed my head graciously at the judge and sauntered over to Edward, glaring daggers at him as I stared him down.

"So, what's his name?" he joked, nudging his young lawyer who laughed in response to his inappropriate joke.

"Very funny, Edward. Keep playing your little game. Next time he won't be so prepared," I said, pointing to the attorney, who looked at me wide-eyed.

He knew exactly what I meant.

**A/N: Just a little short one this time. I promise next chapter will be longer. Love, Grey-Eyed-Blonde xox**


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